


The Warmth Left in the Palm of Your Hand

by Catminty



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Gen, Loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-27
Updated: 2013-03-27
Packaged: 2017-12-06 16:05:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/737554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catminty/pseuds/Catminty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was hard to know that you would outlive your best friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Warmth Left in the Palm of Your Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Headcanon fed me sads today. :[

He was slower now. The vorns had been kinder to his frame than it was for his wife, but his processor was the one to pay the highest toll. There were good orns and there bad orns. The times where he remembered the Autobots, his late wife, or his son were outnumbered by the times where he did not. Bumblebee just hoped he would not scare his charge like last time. 

A nurse carefully lead an elderly man out to the waiting VW Beetle. The Cybertronian's spark skipped a pulse when that warm, welcoming smile spread across that tired, worn face. 

Spike remembered today.

His human friend was old. Frail. He looked like he had barely been able to get out of his berth this morning. The nurse probably helped him, though the yellow mech would never comment on his companion's dependency. It was just how things were.

The man slowly maneuvered his way into Bumblebee's passenger seat with the nurse's aid and a helpful tilt of the mech's frame. Bones creaked and muscles spasmed in ways that forced a grimace on that aged face. Each passing Sunday was harder on him.

Time wore on his tired frame harder and harder each orn. Nevertheless, Bumblebee made sure that they made their weekly trip to the highest point in town.

It was bitterly cold out. His companion had several layers of coverings on to fight off the chill. The Autobot took great care to puff up his plush seating and raise his internal temperature a few degrees higher to warm the smaller frame.

With his charge fully secured and settled in, Bumblebee rolled out to their favorite viewing spot. He drove slowly along the undisturbed back roads, providing his friend with a scenic view of the winter wonderland. 

Spike smiled and gently pat his small servo against his caretaker's living metal. They didn't need words to communicate; they had both already said everything they needed long ago.

Bumblebee coasted to a stop at the pinnacle of their long, winding journey. He played a soft tune for his passenger as they shared a moment of companionable silence. Moments like these were rare. 

Breaths came in soft, shallow puffs. A heartbeat slowed in relaxed comfort. Contented happiness spread a sincere smile across a peaceful face. The soft music continued to play a sweet lullaby even as the Cybertronian detected systems offlining in a sedate pace, one after another. 

Still, Bumblebee said nothing as he cuddled the small, frail body gently with his interior. He simply sat there, taking in the last few tendrils of warmth that seeped out his friend's frame.

**Author's Note:**

> Please forgive any canon errors of mine. I've never seen what actually happens to Spike (if anything).


End file.
